


Seven! Seven! Seven!

by draculard



Category: Friends (TV)
Genre: F/F, Monica's seven basic erogenous zones, PWP, dubcon, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 23:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/draculard/pseuds/draculard
Summary: From the "Bring Her Bleeding Heart to Me" commentfic meme on Dreamwidth.Prompt: Unemployed and penniless Rachel can't pay her rent, so Monica takes it out as sexual servitude.





	Seven! Seven! Seven!

“C’mon, what’s the big deal?” asked Rachel with an unmistakable whine in her voice. “You can afford it, can’t you?”

“Of course I can,” said Monica, not looking up from the sink where she was fastidiously scrubbing the dishes. “ _Some_ of us actually put money in savings. But that’s not the point.”

Behind her, Rachel was dangerously quiet. When Monica looked over her shoulder, she caught an uncertain expression, almost a pout, on her roommate’s face.

“So…” Rachel said.

“So find another way to make up for it,” said Monica patiently. “I’ll pay your half of the rent but I’m not gonna do it for free.”

“Seriously?” Rachel said. Monica didn’t grace her with a response, and after a moment Rachel cast her eyes about the apartment, searching for a solution. “So what am I supposed to do?” she asked, trailing her fingers across the surface of the kitchen table. “Clean? You wouldn’t even _want_ me to do that.”

Monica said nothing. She could feel Rachel’s baleful stare burning into the back of her head so she concentrated on the dishes, scrubbing so hard under the hot water that she bent back one of her fingernails against a cast-iron skillet.

“Shit,” Monica hissed, jerking her hand out of the water. She glanced at Rachel as she sucked her finger and caught Rachel rolling her eyes. Monica kept her finger in her mouth, studying her friend, and then suddenly Rachel was studying her, too. Their eyes met for a second too long, and Rachel’s gaze dropped down to Monica’s mouth.

Still, Monica said nothing. Rachel’s lips thinned and she looked away.

“Here’s the thing,” Monica said. When Rachel looked at her again, Monica hurriedly looked away, staring at the bookcase on the far wall. “I know it’s kind of a bitch move.”

Rachel made a strangled, sarcastic noise to indicate her agreement. Monica tactfully pretended not to hear it.

“And you’re right,” she said, “I can afford it. It’s not about money, really, it’s about -- well --” She stammered, painfully aware of Rachel’s unimpressed stare. Monica’s cheeks were burning, but in the end she stopped stammering entirely and squared her shoulders.

“It’s about getting what I want for once,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. Rachel met her gaze, eyes narrow and dark.

“Like you know what you want,” Rachel scoffed, but something about the way she was holding herself -- unnaturally still -- tipped Monica off that she wasn’t as flippant as she seemed. As Monica watched, Rachel clenched her perfectly-manicured hands.

“I know what I want,” said Monica levelly. She allowed herself a tiny smile. “I know what _you_ want, too.”

She dried her hands on a dish towel hanging off the oven door and stepped around the kitchen table, still smiling at Rachel, who took a wary step back. When Rachel’s back hit the doorframe, she tried to turn, but Monica grabbed her arm and forcefully turned her back again, so they were nose-to-nose.

“You want me,” Monica said, and kissed her, swallowing Rachel’s squeak of protest. Monica’s left hand quested down the front of Rachel’s shirt, just barely brushing her stomach, until it found the buttons on her pants. Rachel broke off the kiss at that, swatting at Monica’s hand, and for a moment Monica hesitated. Then she shook the hesitation away and pinned Rachel’s hands above her head.

Rachel stared at her, eyes wild. “You can’t be serious right now,” she said.

Monica ignored her. She unbuttoned Rachel’s pants with one hand and shoved them down over her hips. Rachel flinched hard, but Monica’s eyes were stuck on the fantastic view she now had of Rachel’s sky-blue panties, hugging the planes of her body just right.

“Monica?” Rachel said. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” said Monica with more calmness than she felt. She brushed her thumb against the blue material; it felt luxurious, like satin.

“But I don’t -- I’m not --”

“How much did these cost you?” asked Monica incredulously. “You can’t afford rent but you’re buying designer underwear?”

Despite herself, Rachel made an offended noise, which grew sharply louder when Monica slid her hand under Rachel’s blouse, onto the flat surface of her stomach.

“They -- they weren’t that expensive,” Rachel said. Then her voice grew more steady as she snapped, “Which you’d _know_ if you bought something other than Hanes cotton underwear in six-packs from Wal-Mart.”

Monica chose to ignore that. Her thumb found Rachel’s nipple and she rubbed gently until it hardened to a point. Rachel’s eyes slid closed, her breath hitching; when Monica suddenly pinched her, she cried out in pain and jerked her wrists in a futile attempt to twist out of Monica’s grasp.

“Sorry,” said Monica unconvincingly.

“Jesus,” said Rachel, a little breathlessly. She tried, again, to pull free, and glared at Monica when she failed. “If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny.”

“It’s not meant to be,” Monica said. She slid her hand over to Rachel’s other breast and stroked her nipple gently; this time, she didn’t cause any pain, but Rachel remained tense nonetheless, her dark eyes boring into Monica’s skull. Carefully, Monica extricated her hand from the blouse and stared at Rachel, her mouth a thin line of contemplation.

Silently, she adjusted her grip on Rachel’s wrists and put her free hand on Rachel’s shoulder, forcing her to turn around and face the wall. She pulled Rachel’s hands down behind her back and moved in close, pinning them between her body and Rachel’s while she undid the buttons on Rachel’s shirt. Rachel squirmed, trying to break free, and Monica pressed her harder against the wall.

“Don’t struggle,” Monica said, her voice soft. “You want this as much as I do.”

Beneath her hands, she could feel Rachel’s chest heaving, the heat of her skin, the softness of her breasts. Monica undid the buttons quickly and slid the shirt down Rachel’s arms. She stopped at Rachel’s wrists, tying the fabric into a tight knot.

“What are you--?” Rachel said. She tried to tug her wrists apart, failed, and tried again, harder this time. Her voice grew shrill with indignation. “Did you _tie me up?_ ”

Monica said nothing. With both hands free, she was able to tug Rachel’s pants down to her knees; Rachel stumbled, falling back against Monica for support, and then wrenched free, her shoulder smacking against the wall. While she was off-balance, Monica wrapped her arms around Rachel’s slim waist, resting her head against Rachel’s shoulder. She inhaled the scent of Rachel’s shampoo -- strawberries -- and pressed her nose against Rachel’s neck, where her skin met her hair.

She planted one hand flat on Rachel’s stomach with a firm but gentle pressure; with the other hand, she brushed against Rachel’s labia through the blue satin panties, eliciting a gasp and the slightest of flinches. Monica stroked from Rachel’s lips up to her clit and increased the pressure just enough to make Rachel squirm.

“Are you familiar with the seven basic erogenous zones?” Monica murmured. She kissed along Rachel’s neck and felt her shiver.

“Yes,” Rachel breathed.

She turned Rachel around again, back against the wall. Rachel’s legs came apart naturally as she adjusted her stance and Monica took that opportunity to plant her feet between Rachel’s, keeping her legs spread.

“One,” Monica breathed as she kissed Rachel again. She bit down gently on Rachel’s bottom lip just before she pulled away. Her hands moved of their own accord, one resting on Rachel’s bare breast, the other reaching around to cup her ass. “One, two.”

Rachel’s mouth opened under hers and Monica delved into it. She ran her fingers over Rachel’s skin, flushed and warm, and tweaked her nipples. With her other hand, she squeezed Rachel’s ass, not quite hard enough to hurt.

One, two, three.

Three.

Five.

Monica slid down to her knees. It would’ve been impossible to miss the slight wet spot on Rachel’s panties. She watched Monica like a hawk, but her eyes closed when Monica buried her head between Rachel’s legs, her mouth working over the inside of her thighs. Monica nipped and sucked at the tender flesh there until little red spots rose up on Rachel’s skin.

“Lay down,” Monica said. With a sound between a moan and a whine, Rachel slid down to the floor. She was barely sitting down before Monica was on her, gently pushing her down to the floor, tugging her panties further down her thighs.

“Monica,” Rachel started, her hair splayed out on the floor, her voice strained. “We can--”

But then Monica’s mouth was on her again, her tongue lapping between Rachel’s folds, and Rachel lost her voice to a breathy gasp. Her back arched against the floor and Monica strengthened her grip on Rachel’s thighs so she wouldn’t flinch away.

Two, four --

Monica’s tongue found Rachel’s clit and she pressed down on it, and in that moment all resistance left Rachel’s body. Her legs spread wider, giving Monica plenty of room to get comfortable.

Two, four, six.

Two, four, six.

“Monica,” Rachel moaned. Monica looked up, unable to prevent a smile, tasting Rachel on her lips. She propped herself up on her elbows and stole another kiss, relishing the dark look in Rachel’s eyes when she tasted herself. Then Monica was pressing open-mouth kisses down Rachel’s neck, across her breasts; her mouth closed on Rachel’s nipple, sucking with just enough pressure to ride the border between pleasure and pain.

“Monica,” Rachel said again, barely audible. With one hand, Monica reached down to stroke Rachel again, her folds wet, and without warning she slipped two fingers inside. Rachel gasped, going still against the floor; she was tight, but warm and welcoming, and soon enough she’d relaxed.

“I knew you wanted this,” said Monica fondly, taking in -- well, everything. Rachel’s tangled hair, her flushed cheeks, her closed eyes. The way her nose wrinkled every time Monica did something new. The way she couldn’t stop shivering.

Monica crooked her fingers. With her other hand, she stroked over Rachel’s breasts, then back down to her inner thigh.

Four, seven.

Five, seven.

Six, seven.

“Oh,” Rachel breathed, her face screwing up in pleasure. Her hips bucked against Monica’s hand. “Mon--Monica--”

“I’m here,” Monica said. She leaned forward as far as she could with her hand still thrusting shallowly, in and out, and placed a kiss on Rachel’s lower belly. “I’m here.”

Seven.

Seven.

Seven!

Seven!

Seven!


End file.
